‘Are you kidding? Can I come?’
Matt laughed. One of those exhaled I-don’t-believe-it laughs.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘I was calling to ask if you would come. You just saved me the effort.’
‘Glad to help.’ Her words were rushed. ‘When are we leaving? You’ve got no idea how excited I am to have an excuse to get out of here, and to look at the Spanish Helmet. Since last week… well…’
‘I was thinking Wednesday.’
‘Sounds great.’
‘I knew you were interested in the Spanish Helmet and stuff and I thought you could show me around a bit too.’
‘I don’t know the whole country myself, but at least I speak the same language as the locals.’
‘Exactly. You’re a Kiwi and understand your ways.’ He paused and added, ‘Surely better than a whinging Pom.’
‘Oh, you aren’t all that bad. So, how tight is your schedule? Have you got a plan? Accommodation booked? Where exactly are we going?’
Matt explained his father’s research and that they would go to Wellington and then on to Nelson. From there they would see where his notes led them.
‘It sounds like a true adventure. Maybe we can stop at a few other sites on the way? Like the Crosshouse I told you about. Or at least the site where it stood.’ Aimee said.
‘Sure. Warren has also given me a list of a few places we might want to check out. Celtic sites, of course.’
‘Actually, would it be possible to make a visit to my hometown? It’s kind of on the way.’
‘We could. Why, are you homesick?’
‘No, I was thinking about the teacher that got me so passionate about history in the first place. He was one of my dad’s friends when I was growing up. Anyways, I recall him telling us some stories about the Maori saying that ships had come. It would be cool to ask him about it, and to see him again.’
‘OK, that sounds good. I’m keen to see a bit of the country anyway.’
‘Awesome, I can hardly wait. Let me give you my address. You’ll pick me up, right? I need to go pack.’
Aimee couldn’t disguise her excitement from Matt. The butterflies started to fly in formation again. No matter how often Matt told himself she was excited about the research, he couldn’t get his stupid boyish hopes for more out of his head. He wrote down Aimee’s address and said goodbye, telling her that he too looked forward to Wednesday. He put the phone back in his pocket and checked himself in the mirror. His reflection smiled back proudly.
‘Smug bastard,’ he told it. ‘You’ll probably be a huge disaster.’
CHAPTER 22
Monday, August 16, 1526
We are finally under full sail again. Our repairs to the damaged hull have waylaid us five weeks. Thank God that our carpenters and shipwrights are still in good health. Without them, we would have been doomed to die on the atoll.
On leaving the island, I have set a course west. The Moluccas must lie in this direction. If I am wrong, perhaps we will discover the great continent, Terra Australis. Yesterday, two days after we set sail, we encountered an inhabited island. The natives there were friendly and happy to trade some beads for food and water. Ten of the crew wanted to remain on the island to try to convert them to the teachings of Christ. I believe their true reasons for abandoning their posts is a fear of what lies ahead on the journey to come. Having no wives at home in Spain, they look lustfully at the native woman and will try to win them. Or take them by force. Some of these men were brawlers so I am not displeased to see them gone.
With the departure of these ten men, and the fateful loss of the seven when we struck ground, my crew numbers 35. This is one less than the original crew assigned to the San Lesmes in La Coruna. I sail with a heart full of hope because the men gained at the misfortune of the other ships are of higher rank and knowledge than the seamen who have been taken from us. We should make the Moluccas as planned.
CHAPTER 23
‘You have arrived at your destination. Your destination is on the left,’ the GPS stated matter-of-factly.
Matt leaned over the passenger seat of the car and looked at the front window of Aimee’s house, just in time to see a gap in the curtain close. Aimee was waiting for him. He checked the clock. No, he wasn’t late. As a matter of fact he was fifteen minutes early. She was keen! Very professional, Matt corrected himself. Walking up the garden path he inhaled the fresh aroma of the garden. Thyme. Blending with something he couldn’t quite place. It smelt wonderful though. He racked his brain trying to think of what it was as he waited for her to answer the doorbell. The opening door snapped him back to reality. Aimee, standing in the hallway, wearing beige shorts, loafers, and a buttoned blouse took his breath away. The aroma of the garden was replaced with something even better. Matt smiled.
‘Good morning.’ She returned his smile.
‘Morning. Nice looking place you have here,’ Matt said, sweeping his arm and trying not to look at her legs.
‘Thanks. I’m always a bit embarrassed that I live in a granny-flat but it beats putting up with flatmates.’
‘I live in a granny-flat too, nothing to be embarrassed about at all. I love my privacy.’
Aimee’s smile widened.
‘So you like your privacy? Not a big party animal then?’
‘Not really. OK, not at all.’ Matt hoped he didn’t put her off by being so boring.
‘That’s great! It’s refreshing to meet a man who doesn’t feel the need to waste all of his waking hours boozing with friends and watching rugby.’
‘Oh, that’s definitely not me,’ Matt said, excited by the prospect that Aimee found his style so acceptable.
‘Cool.’ she said, looking over her shoulder and indicating her single bag. ‘I think I have everything. Shall we go then?’
Matt looked down at her luggage. She travelled light. Her bag was smaller than his.
‘We might be gone a week or more.’
‘No problem, I’ve got enough here to get me by for at least a month.’
‘Impressive.’
Matt reached through the doorway to take Aimee’s suitcase before she could protest. She didn’t anyway. He waited while Aimee slung a little day-pack over her shoulder and locked the door. Walking back down the path, Matt enjoyed the blend of Thyme, mysterious aroma, and Aimee. He could definitely get used to her. Definitely.
His high crashed down to the ground as he walked towards the back of the car and saw the black Corolla parked a hundred metres up the road. It was occupied. Just one man. Matt said nothing, and loaded Aimee’s bag into the boot.
‘Fuck a tar knee.’ Matt said, taking care to pronounce the name of Aimee’s hometown exactly as she had taught him. The sign at the beginning of the bridge spelt out the Maori name more politely: Whakatane.
‘Home sweet home.’
They drove over the bridge and turned left towards the main part of town, as Aimee guided Matt with plenty of pointing. She directed him through a shopping area and past her high school before taking them over a large hill to a beautiful long beach on the other side.
